


Gunpowder

by monaboyd_archivist



Category: The Lord of the Rings RPF
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2007-05-05
Updated: 2007-05-05
Packaged: 2018-04-11 18:26:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 918
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4446989
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monaboyd_archivist/pseuds/monaboyd_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's my First Fic so please be kind and feel free to R/R:</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gunpowder

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the Monaboyd.net Archive, which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years . To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile.

There was the smell of fresh rain. A summer rain that was thought to be much needed around the island. I did not care for rain. I could sense the bitter scent of gunpowder smelling of one too many matchbooks upon the humidity. Humidity wet and heavy, lingering over this town like a smoke too thick to take in. Of course there was smoke as well. Colors of brilliant reds and blues lit up the sky above. It looked daytime although it felt much like night. Your cologne of sandalwood and cedar met the shadows, catching fire as it mixed with the gunpowder. Of course I knew this smell. Of course I knew you. In the sputters of glow I catch a glance of your gorgeous hands. Thin and strong, aging you with their calluses and scars. I remember once you told me of the scars you carry for the trees. Acquired by climbing old ratty trunks, their bark like razors against your precious skin.

 

_“They are alone, they must be lonely I figure.”_

_“They're not alone. They have squirrels and other critters.”_

_“Then why do they always look so sad?”_

_“Trees look sad?”_

_“They're quite tall but look at their heads, always down, always sad.”_

_“That's not sad. That's nature.”_

_“Weeping willows? And look at the Banyan trees, they cry.”_

_“And you've seen them cry?”_

_“I've heard them cry. Just listen the next time you're alone.” ___

____

 

__Then there were the scars you carried for your boredom. Sitting alone with no one to hear you, the lone cigarette in your hand your only comfort. The blood that ran, your only release. You cried. Sure it wasn't aloud but the tears on your cheeks spoke more than any words you could ever say. Those charming eyes that were always alive and optimistic, suddenly dark and timid._ _

____

 

___“I had a dark time in my life.”_ _ _

___“Everyone has dark times in their lives.”_ _ _

___“Well mine lasted for twenty some odd years.”_ _ _

___“Perhaps yer adolescence was longer than average.”_ _ _

___“Sometimes I feel so...angry and alone. I cut myself here once.”_ _ _

___“There?”_ _ _

___“Yep. It felt good to...hurt myself I guess. It felt right.”_ _ _

___“That's not right.”_ _ _

___“Oh I know, but drugs aren't right either but they still feel nice.”_ _ _

___“Have you ever tried to...ya know?”_ _ _

___“Nah. I'm too fucking optimistic I guess. Got too much to live for and all that shit.”_ _ _

___“Why is that shite?”_ _ _

___“It's not. Don't listen to me.”_ _ _

___“I am listening.”_ _ _

___“I cut myself here too. That time it didn't feel right.” ____ _

______ _ _

 

____Those hands were beautiful. Those hands were yours. Those eyes caught mine as a flash went off. I smiled. Your eyes made me smile easily. You smiled too as the sky went dark again. I missed it but your smile lingered like the gunpowder on the air. I sensed it even in the dark. You told me once of the scar along your bottom lip. Those lips I loved to kiss. I asked when I examined your face. A moment between two people in love with one anothers beauty.You told me of how you fell onto the pavement and of how it bled. When I asked of how you fell, it was a soft voice that told of the man who hurt you. I recall your tone. Emotionless and drained._ _ _ _

______ _ _

 

_____“I pissed him off I guess.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“You guess?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Yeah. I pissed him off.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“So what happened?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“I said something...I don't even remember...but whatever I said pissed him off.”_ _ _ _ _

_____“So he pushed you?”_ _ _ _ _

_____“Well...he...he hit me with a bottle, I fell actually onto the blacktop. I can't remember what I said...but yeah, I was pretty busted up...here and here.” ____ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

 

______You explained your side of the story. I'd never care to hear his. Speechless I kissed the scar in hopes of making you smile. You smiled._ _ _ _ _ _

________ _ _ _ _

 

_______“You're too bloody emotional, ya know that?” ____ _ _ _ _ _

________I laughed. Emotional me._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

________The sky lit up and amongst the murmurs of enchantment, I saw you looking uninterested. Your leg bouncing with anticipation. Always jumpy. Always waiting for something that never seems to arrive. The smoke began to turn my stomach. Too much smoke. The smell of burning. You laid back onto the sand below. I watched you shelter your eyes with a skeletal limb. The glow was too vivid. The flickers too unbearable. I saw your ankle. Scarred with dark colored circles. You never told me of the hurt. I found you. Awaken from my sleep by the smell of burning. Not the smell of gunpowder and fireworks. I could smell you. Sandalwood and Cedar. Burning. You sat by the window, smoking a cigarette. Smoking? No. I watched you the first time. Your long fingers pressing the orange glow to your skin. The second time I observed your face. Tranquil and still. For someone who detested pain you certainly did not fear it. The third time...yes there was a third time. How could I let there be a third time? The third time I spoke._ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I can't be alone.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Ya wont be alone love.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“If you're not here I am alone. Don't you care?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Of course I care.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“If you leave me alone...I am afraid of being alone. Don't leave me OK?”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“I told ya, I can only stay for the holiday.”_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_________“Then stay for the holiday.” ____ _ _ _ _ _ _ _

_The Fourth of July off the beach. On this humid night with the smell of gunpowder on the air. Nothing was more beautiful than you._  



End file.
